"death's little game"

crawl in my arms
cradle my ribs
eat my rotting heart
where it no longer gives

skeletal remains
decaying long past
maggots took flight
but, they multiply fast

flowers wilted
dried by the sun
death in full swing
but, death is not done

glassy eyes
opaque iris of white
inside the beetle burrows
stripping my sight

sinking my cheeks
hugging my bones
bruising and rigor
and blood puddle tones

fingernails recede
gums do the same
it appears i am smiling
at death's little game